


Mr. and Mrs. Smith Go to New Hampshire

by thefourthvine



Category: Mr. and Mrs. Smith (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-25
Updated: 2005-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 03:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefourthvine/pseuds/thefourthvine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marriage is always a work in progress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. and Mrs. Smith Go to New Hampshire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sammy for Yuletide 2005.

 

 

"Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I'm happy you're here today, and I'm happy with the progress we're making."

"Happy to be here, aren't we, honey?"

"I want to remind you, though: the first year is always the hardest. And that doesn't just apply to the first year of marriage. It applies to a situation like this - what we might term a renewal, a rebirth - too. You've changed the way you relate to each other - for the better, yes, but even so, there will be a period of adjustment. The road won't be easy."

"Very true," John said, smiling at Jane. "But I'm sure we'll manage. Together."

She showed him her teeth and rearranged her hands in her lap.

Dr. Wexler said, "That said, let's talk about the long term. How are you going to maintain these positive adjustments you've been making?"

John grinned, stretched out, snagged Jane's hand, and brought it over into his lap. "Well, we're going into business together. That right there - we're gonna be spending more time together, working _with_ each other instead of, uh, at cross-purposes."

"I think it'll help us put our marriage on a more honest footing," Jane added softly, kicking John under the table.

John slammed his foot down on hers hard enough to hold it in place. Plus a little extra. "Yeah," he said. He leaned forward a little like he was really interested in the conversation and used the extra leverage to grind down on Jane's foot. "It'll help us prevent those little pitfalls, those little - you know. Problems on the road, like you said."

* * *

Eddie brought them the contract; Jane didn't much like working with him, but she'd had to ditch her organization when she walked out on the Company.

The job was simple. The target was Melvin Shiffletz, aka the Cowboy, a big player on the commodities market. He'd been trading on inside information against the wrong people, and those people wanted him out of the game before his futures came due for delivery in four days. The Cowboy's ranch was isolated, well guarded, and tough to crack, and large-scale operations - demolitions, assault team, aerial - were out.

But the price tag was right. More than right, and that's what counted.

"I say we put it in play, see how it goes," John said.

"Or we could try conducting the operation like professionals," Jane said. "Make a plan, carry it out?"

John waved his hands. "Be my guest, princess."

Jane lifted the folder from his hands, sat down, crossed her legs, and tapped her fingernails on the file. "I can get next to any man." He gave her a look. "What? The key to a successful operation is to take the victim when he's not expecting it. And believe me, I can make sure that death is the farthest thing from his mind."

"No! Because, uh, because." John grabbed for the file, which he'd read. Pretty much. Enough to know that somewhere in there was a good reason not to use her idea, and he could find it, and yes. "See? Says right here he's got no interest in women."

"Damn."

John stretched. "How 'bout I move in on the security team? Win friends, kill people?"

Jane leaned over and flipped the folder open to the page that described the Cowboy's personal security: not from any outside company, hired by the Cowboy himself. Wouldn't be too easy to move in there, especially on the kind of time limit they were facing. And the core of the ranch was protected by some kind of high-tech wonder system.

"Fuck," he said. "I hate that tech bullshit."

"I love it." She moved her hands to her laptop and started rapidly clicking through her security screens. "What we need is some recon - current information, lay of the land, a better feel for the rhythm of the operation. Normally I'd send some trainees up there, let the fittest start surviving, but since our infrastructure is down, we'll have to do it ourselves. And that's fine; it's good to keep your hand in at all parts of the game."

She stood and moved across the bedroom to the closet. "Start packing, John. We've got to get to the ranch by tomorrow if we're going to do the job this weekend, so we'll need to drive out tonight." She pulled out her Zero Halliburton Elite, laid it open on the bed, and turned to the closet. A ranch in rural New Hampshire; was that more Armani or Escada?

John smiled at her back. "So basically what you're saying is, we're gonna put it in play and see how it goes," he said.

For a second, her hands stilled on the Michael Kors jacket, nails digging into the fabric. She blinked and went back to packing so fast John could almost have missed it.

"Just one other thing we need to make clear," she said.

John said, "Anything you want, my precious, provided you understand -"

"I'm in charge," they said.

* * *

John hated the waiting. When a job started, he was _ready_ \- body humming, brain revving. He'd become an independent contractor so he could make the call, work the situation in the field. None of this three-days-observing-the-target crap; just go out there and get the job done. It wasn't like you could plan for what would actually happen, and waiting made you stiffen up, locked you down, took away your options.

Jane liked observation. She wanted three _weeks_, she wanted three _months_, she wanted the data and a thousand backup plans and a geological survey map of local underground water courses.

It was amazing she'd ever managed to get anyone killed at all, really.

But she was his wife. Partner. Whichever. Both. So he'd found her the damn sheep shack - decent cover, fantastic view, all the privacy you could want - and they were going to sit here until she got her observation kink worked out.

John shifted his eyes from the Cowboy's ranch house to Jane.

Observation kink. Huh.

He glanced at his watch - Christ, they'd been lying on this stone floor for two fucking hours already - then shifted onto one side to check her out. She was stretched full length, binoculars pressed to her face, one hand working easily on a keyboard she couldn't see. She'd traded her traveling suit for something black and tight, and damn. She had a fantastic ass.

He reached out to run his fingers up her side, and suddenly she was sitting up, her hand wrapped around his wrist, her thumb and forefinger digging into the nerve tunnel, her eyes locked on his face.

"Working, sweetheart," she said, tossing his hand down.

And then she smiled, just for a second.

John rolled back over to his side of the shack, wrist still burning, and grinned. Yeah. Working with his wife worked for him.

Ten minutes later, Jane paused, typed something, paused again, and said, "I make that a 450 second rotation on the perimeter guards."

John scooted in a little closer.

"John?"

"Yeah, 450," he said. It didn't matter. They'd change their pattern once he got in there.

Ten more minutes passed.

"Are you getting any kind of a reading off those electronics arrays inside the perimeter?" She put down the 'nocs and began typing intently. "Damn. One thing I really miss about the Company - we always had the best intel on tech." She typed more, and he moved in just a little - maybe an inch closer. Okay, two inches.

She moved away two inches. "John. No."

"Because it'd be un-pro-fess-ion-al?"

"No." She paused, looked at him from under her eyelashes, and smiled sweetly. "Because _I. Said. So._"

John narrowed his eyes at her. He reached out for her neck, wrapped his hands around it hard enough that she'd feel it in her throat when she breathed and swallowed, pulled her in. She went along with it, so he knew she was planning something, and he didn't go for the kiss; while she was still off-balance, he rolled on top of her, pinned her down.

She bit his jaw - hard, but not nearly as hard as he knew she could - and he couldn't fucking help it; he took a short, sharp breath. No sound at all, but he knew she could feel it. She smiled, moved her mouth down just a little, and bit his neck. She licked the same place, breathed out softly, and then bit again, scraped her teeth against his stubble, down towards his collarbone. This time, on his gasp, she writhed up against him. It felt so good that he didn't notice her moving them both until he was on his back and she was on top of him. She pinned him, kneeling on his legs and pushing hard onto his arms, locking him down onto the ground. Then she kissed him.

Jane kissed like she killed: slid in past all your defenses, claimed your territory before you knew she was there, and then nailed you in your weakest spot. John knew what was coming, but when she bit his lower lip, he still let his mouth open just a bit. When she pressed her tongue against his, he still let her in. And when she sucked his tongue into his mouth, he still tried to push up against her. She sucked just hard enough, dragged her teeth along his tongue, and then finished with a wicked twist that showed she hadn't even started trying.

Jane didn't just nail you, she made you love it.

John rocked up against her, trying to get her out of the four-point-restraint position and into something that was a little nearer his target, and when she pulled back, he tried to follow.

"John," she said. He blinked at her as she dragged her fingernails along his neck from his collarbone to his carotid artery. She grabbed his chin, dug in hard, and his vision grayed out. "No. Means. No. Honey." And then she rolled up and off him and back to her station so damn fast he didn't even feel her go.

He stayed on his back, panting, fingers trying to dig into the dirty mud floor. He could still feel the impressions of her on his thighs and shoulders and his whole body was tingling.

Oh, _yeah_.

* * *

Jane snapped her computer shut. "Shift change," she said. "They're on four-hour shifts, so we won't get another one before dawn. Heat patterns from inside the house show minimal activity; our target's stationary and relaxed. We've got what we're going to get. Now's the time." She pulled out her bag and snapped the silencer down on the gun she preferred for indoor work.

John rolled up into a standing position and moved his weight onto the balls of his feet. "Now, now. I thought we were a team - isn't that what Dr. Wexler said? What if I don't have everything I need yet?"

Jane shot him a quick look and went back to checking that her knives were in place - slide of a hand over her thigh, quick stretch of her back, glide of one toe along her inner right ankle. "Oh, don't feel left out, sweetiepie. If you're good, I'll let you do the kill."

"It's been mine all along, precious. This is my job, remember? My guy, my contacts, my _infrastructure_. My kill."

Jane stood, graceful and fast, and stalked over to him, standing almost right up against him, letting her hand rest just above the bulge in his jeans, so close he could feel the heat but not the pressure.

"Oh. Is it." She watched him, her pupils dilated in the low light, and when he arched into her hand, she pulled away. "Really." And then she smiled.

He turned the arch and thrust of his hips into a full forward movement, slamming his body against hers - _yes, thank you, at last_ \- and then slamming them both against the rough wooden wall. He licked her lips and she allowed him to push his tongue inside, and then he was fucking her mouth with the same lewd rhythm as his hips as he ground up against her.

He knew it was coming in time to pull back, but he didn't - he wanted every last second of this. So when she knocked his feet out from under him, he was off-balance, and he slammed hard against the floor. She kicked him onto his back, and held the point of her boot against his throat.

"Show time, sweetie," she said, checking once again to make sure her knives were in place, shoving her gun into her shoulder holster. "Shall we?"

* * *

They stopped just outside the electronic perimeter, waiting for the guard Jane had selected from kinesthetic pattern analysis to cycle into their zone. John was, for once in his life, actually still and nearly invisible in the shadows. He'd never understand the importance of proper preparation, but he had the skills. And he was a demon with creative improvisation and complete follow-through; she admired that.

Plus, he had a fantastic body.

Which, at the moment, was pressing against hers just a little more than was necessary for both of them to share the shadow. But Jane was ignoring it. Maybe John had an attitude problem, a self-control problem, but she didn't, and she'd stayed clear and calm through a lot worse than this. This wasn't even a problem, really, just a little...inconvenient. She tensed her thighs against the tantalizing sensation in her cunt, tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed, feeling the rhythm and pressure build the rising awareness between her legs. Mmmm, _yes_.

But the count in her head was ticking down, and she needed to stop indulging herself and focus on the job. The job was what mattered.

She tapped John on the shoulder and he held out his left hand. She pressed her fingers down on his palm - one, two, one, three: _we'll cross the perimeter in thirty seconds_. He brought his right hand down to tap a confirmation on the back of her hand and she turned her attention to the guard moving into sight.

John didn't let go of her hand; he took it up to his mouth and bit the pad of her index finger, then stroked the stinging mark with his tongue. She jerked her hand back and bit her lip hard against the increasing heat between her legs. She'd get him for this later, she promised herself. Throw him down and lick him and bite him until he screamed, and even then she'd fuck him so slowly he'd have to beg for it.

But right now, she was ignoring it. Her mind was all on the job.

John tapped on her shoulder, and she realized her internal timer had run over - they were seven seconds behind. Fuck.

She pointed at him, but he was already moving out.

* * *

The perimeter crossing went like a dance, something fast and hot and Spanish; they were in position two before the timer on the perimeter bypass got down to ten seconds. Back in a brand-new shadow, waiting again for Jane's obsessive counting to reach whatever number it was she wanted, John pressed himself up against Jane, really _enjoying_ the full body contact, and felt her take a sharp breath. He grinned to himself. All work and no play made John a _bad_ boy.

She tapped him on the shoulder, and he held out his hand, but she ignored it, sliding her fingers down his shoulder, down his side, pausing at his waist to tap three times. She converted the last tap into a slow drag down his hip, pausing at the pelvic bone for another quick tap, and then moving in and down to do the final press just above the spot where the head of his cock pressed against the seam of his jeans. He managed not to whimper when she pulled her hand back, but he'd completely forgotten the count.

No problem. He'd move when she did. Which was...now.

They reached the wall with forty seconds to get over. Jane turned, pushed down off his shoulders, and jumped; she was already halfway up the wall by the time he got his hands into position. She paused with just her eyes above the top of the wall, looking at the interior - heat scans had given them a body count and movement pattern, but they hadn't been able to get a decent visual. John took the opportunity to admire her from the fine perspective their relative positions provided - the graceful length of her legs, the curves of her ass, the shadow between her thighs.

It wasn't intentional, exactly. Some things you just have to touch. She was braced on the wall - she hadn't actually needed him to provide any leverage - so he moved his left hand out from under her foot. He ran his fingertips up her leg, and he could almost feel it, feel how wet and hot she'd be, almost taste her.

And then she slammed her knee into his hand, trapping him against the wall. He gasped silently while she used her other foot to push off his arm, and then she was over the wall, under the security lights, and he barely heard her land on the other side.

It wasn't the smoothest climb he'd ever made - his foot slipped the first time up - but he nailed his target. When he landed beside her, dead in the third shadow zone, she smiled at him, her mouth barely visible in the low light. "Two tries?" she mouthed at him.

He held up his left hand. It wasn't actually numb, but it could have been.

She blinked at him, took his hand, and kissed the spot she'd hit with her knee. Kissed it and then licked lewdly up to the tip of his index finger and closed her mouth over just the tip of it. She was sucking and sliding it ever so slightly in and out and in, every time letting him in a little deeper, and her tongue was tapping against his fingertip, and -

Three taps. Right. The go signal.

They moved across the lawn in unison; they were at the door before the next guard moved near their old position, and then Jane had her electronic master key out and was sliding it into the lock and - missing. Her hands were shaking a little, and he knew she wasn't scared.

He smiled and pressed his body even closer against hers, letting her feel how hard he was, how much he wanted her.

Jane bit down hard on her lip and the master slipped easily into the lock the second time. John heard and felt the subliminal thunk of the door releasing its electronic grip on the frame. She held the handle, paused to catch his eye, and he counted with her: handle _down_ on one, door _open_ on two, John _in_ on three, Jane _in_ on four, door _shut_ on five, handle _up_ on six. Six seconds. Fast enough that most guards wouldn't even see the blip on the screen.

They moved into the coat closet to wait, just in case the Cowboy's guards actually were paying attention.

* * *

Jane pushed aside a plaid L.L. Bean parka - it was pathetic the depths people would sink to in these rustic hideouts - and leaned against the back of the closet. She pulled her handheld scanner out of her vest pocket and began calibrating - they hadn't been able to get any intel on the layout of the house, but it was small enough for her wavelength detector to scan the whole place and identify every sensor and transmitter within a few minutes.

In the meantime, they could wait here in this lovely closet that smelled like cows - and given that the Cowboy didn't actually own any livestock of any kind, he probably bought the scent from L.L. Bean, too. She fastidiously swept some clunky, muddy overshoes to one side with the toe of her Givenchy boots, watched the screen, and waited.

The closet door opened. Jane was reconnoitering remotely, her brain focused on the house rather than the closet, and she didn't pick up the movement in time. There was a long second where they both paused - the guard staring, his eyes going wide in slow motion, his hand rising to his com so slowly - but she was hesitating, goddammit, and she knew the hesitation was too long, knew it, could feel the mission going to shit...

And then things moved abruptly back into real time as the guard crumpled to the floor. John caught him with the hand that wasn't holding the cosh he'd used to take him out.

She smiled at him, genuinely relieved even if she was seriously pissed at herself, and John grinned back and did victory arms with a little fancy foot shuffle. It was cute, but she didn't giggle.

Not quite.

She looked back at her monitor, and, yes, just as she'd been expecting, the Cowboy kept his tech outside where anyone with enough ingenuity and interest could bypass it, while the interior of the house was fairly unencumbered. Targets were morons - they always chose convenience over safety - and the Cowboy had a terminal case of stupid. She scanned over the wave pattern layout, evaluating, noting the placement of the sensors and alarms, noting - huh. She switched the view to a different wavelength range.

Above them and about fifteen meters to the left, a TV was on; her scanner was picking up the active transmissions from some kind of wireless digital media device. They'd found their target.

She smiled at John, who was kneeling beside the guard's unconscious body, searching his pockets and stripping him of all electronic devices. When he paused, Jane passed him a zip strip, and John locked the guard's hands and legs into an efficient four-point behind-the-back restraint. When John stood up, she tapped him on the shoulder, then gestured at herself, the guard, him, the zip strips: _later, I'll be using those on you_.

He swallowed hard enough that she could hear it, hear the click made by his suddenly dry mouth, and she leaned in for the kill, grabbing his ass with her left hand and sliding her right hand between his legs, pushing up just a little, just until his legs opened for her and his breathing sped up. She licked her lips, watched his glazed eyes track the movement of her tongue, and then pinched his ass, hard. He twitched, and she smiled as pulled her right hand away to wave at the closet door.

John didn't signal agreement. Instead, he shifted a bit, took a breath, and pressed the heel of his hand down on the cloth-covered bulge at his crotch. She seriously didn't have time to watch him feel himself up in the closet of some meatbag's house. She leaned over and slapped the hand hard enough to sting. He hissed.

She raised her eyebrows: _are you finished_? He nodded, and they swung out into the house together.

* * *

The kill went down so fast and easy it was almost a disappointment to John; he remembered the days when targets actually tried _not_ to get killed.

They found the stairs, flipped over the two laser beam sensors on the way up, and burst into the bedroom. The Cowboy - naked, fat, pink, and hairy - was sprawled on a silk-covered California King bed with very unusual porn playing on the 80-inch screen across from him. He looked up at them, and it was a repeat of the moment in the closet, except this time they weren't the ones surprised.

The Cowboy didn't even have a chance to take his hand off his dick. John's bullet hit him in the forehead as Jane's knife nailed him in the throat, and then they were executing withdrawal plan A. They hit the stairs at a run and dove over the two laser sensors, but at the bottom, once they were clear - never knew when a target might get smart - Jane used another knife to trigger one of the alarms. They ducked back into their coat closet - John waved cheerfully at the now-conscious, trussed-up guard - as the guards pelted for the stairs. Jane counted: _six, seven, eight, nine_ \- nine out of ten guards was the best they were going to do, so she pointed and they moved back out and into the relatively unguarded perimeter.

From there, it was a simple matter of going across the fields and back to the sheep shack.

John was looking forward to it.

* * *

When they got in the door of the shack, Jane turned to break down their scene equipment, and John cleared his throat. She ignored him, so he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her against him. "Playtime," he said, sliding his hand between his legs.

Jane ground down onto his hand. "Time," she said, breathing a little harder, "for a strategic withdrawal."

"Nah," John said. "Sometimes you've got to stick around for all the innings." He pushed her against the wall of the shack, not even caring when the rough wood scraped the back of his hand, rubbing his cock against her thigh. The buttons on his jeans played hell with his ability to enjoy the first real friction he'd had, and he let go of her hair to reach for his waistband.

Jane grabbed his hand and shoulder and twisted until John was the one against the wall. "I only play by _my_ rules," she said. She shoved his arms behind his back and then pressed herself against him.

"What rules are those, sweetie?" He twisted forward enough to get his teeth into her bottom lip, and she fought back, licking at his lips until his jaws relaxed enough for her to force her tongue into his mouth. He pushed up against her and it was all hot wet friction until he moaned.

She drew back, biting his tongue on her way out. "First rule: _silent_," she hissed, and he had to agree. He liked living dangerously as much as the next professional assassin, but making a lot of noise half a mile from the scene was overdoing it.

He showed his appreciation for her common sense by pulling one of his arms out of her grasp and running his fingers along the inside of her waistband. If she were wearing a skirt he could have just pushed it up and slid his fingers into her, but they were working, and he guessed some concessions had to be made. Instead, he scraped his fingernails around her side and across her back. Where he hit her lower-back sheath.

He grinned. She twisted, but not fast enough to keep him from getting the knife, so she danced several steps back, wary. He followed, still smiling, and grabbed her by the arm, waiting to be sure she'd stay still before he slid the knife between the waistband and her side. She gasped, licking her lips, and they both watched as he turned the blade just enough for the razor-sharp edge to catch on the fibers of her clothes, parting the fabric slowly, then faster as he dragged the blade down. She shivered as the cold metal moved lower and lower on her body.

She reached for his wrist, grabbed it and squeezed, and he dropped the knife. She caught it in her other hand and brought the blade up, pressed it against denim covering his cock, and he sucked in a ragged breath and froze.

Her smile was wicked, almost feral as she dragged the tip of the knife up the length of his cock so gently that he wanted to arch up into it. When she brought the edge of the blade up against the first button of his jeans and pressed, the button pinged onto the stone floor and his cock twitched against the denim, pushing aginst the flat of the blade. She seemed fascinated, completely focused, lips parted as she slid the knife down to the second button.

Ping.

John reached for her. He let his fingers follow the cut he'd made in her pants, down until he touched the edge of her panties. She gasped, but her hand didn't waver.

Ping.

He trailed his fingers down further, letting just his fingertips trace along her until he found the hot wet patch that covered her cunt. She swallowed hard and let her hips work forward just slightly. He crooked his fingers up, rubbing into her.

She dropped the knife.

He didn't have time to do anything but rub his fingers across her wetness one more time before she yanked his fly open the rest of the way, then ran both her hands along his hips until his pants and boxers slid down to his knees. He moaned at the sudden cool air on his cock, and again as she raked her fingernails across his ass.

He retaliated by pushing the crotch of her panties to one side and letting his fingers slip into the slick moisture of her cunt, pressing up hard against her clit. He tried to make his hand go still, tease her a little, but she was hot and so fucking wet and he found himself making circles over and under and around. Her hips followed his movements.

Jane took a deep, shaking breath. She let the fingers of her left hand graze the base of his cock while the fingernails on her right hand dug into his chest. "Second rule," she whispered, and he stared at her. "I lead." She pushed against his sternum, hard, and he stumbled back into the wall of the shed.

The wall rasped against his bare ass, but he didn't care. He grabbed the waistband of her pants and tried to tear it, but the microfiber resisted, and he growled and shoved them down around her thighs along with her panties.

He pushed his cock up against her wet curls, demanding entrance. She pulled back and slapped her palm down over his erection, almost hard enough to sting. "Patience, loverboy." She bent down and licked a broad wet stripe up his dick and he froze and groaned. The sound got him a scowl and she took her mouth away, but in another moment her boots were unzipped and off and she was naked from the waist down and plastered up against him.

John reached up under her shirt and got a double handful of those fabulous tits, pinching at her nipples and making her squirm hard against his cock. He ducked down a bit and braced himself against the wall, adjusting his height to let his cock slip between her legs, pushing bluntly up into the wet warmth of her cunt. Jane wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rubbed herself up his body, then brought herself down on his cock and let just the head slip inside.

He said, "Oh fuck yes," and she bit at his mouth until he remembered to be quiet. He bit back, hard enough that he tasted blood, and she gasped and slammed down onto him. He pushed up, but she wouldn't let him; she pinned him and ground down onto him, making circles with her hips, sinking her teeth into his neck, and even as he fought to get some leverage, some thrust, he could feel her body clenching around his cock as she came in total silence.

Seconds later, she opened her eyes and licked the blood off her lip, then lifted her hips and pulled all the way off of him with a satisfied smile.

_Hell no_. He let his whole body weight fall forward, pinning her down with his hands inside her shirt, bracing them both against the impact. He was in her before they were all the way on the floor, and then he was fucking her, slamming into her and pushing his tongue into her mouth. She wrapped her legs around him and he thrust harder, feeling his whole body wind tighter and tighter. He was so fucking close, and he started to tell her, started to say something, too loud, and then he felt her shove her knuckles into his mouth, hard, and he was biting down on her hand and coming like he'd been waiting his whole fucking life.

* * *

"So. How was this week for you?"

"I think we worked out some issues." John shifted slightly; the splinters from the raw wooden boards were gone but not forgotten.

"Really? Let's talk a little more about that, John."

"We definitely had some ups and downs, some boundaries to explore, but I think we came together and proved we're a great team." John turned to Jane and smiled; she licked the split in her lip and blew him a kiss.

 


End file.
